


don't go where i cannot follow

by strawberrycreamcheese



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexuality, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, F/F, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbians, Misogyny, Paganism, Roman Catholicism, Wicca, Witchcraft, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrycreamcheese/pseuds/strawberrycreamcheese
Summary: a catholic girl deals with guilt as she falls in love with a witch.
Kudos: 5





	1. the day i met you i started dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter. just posting this to see if it gets any feedback. might be taken down later.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from faye webster (kingston).

Eleanor Marner did not consider herself the type to be distracted easily. Her mother raised her to be quietly observant, perceptive, and painfully heedful of even one's smallest actions. She did not catch herself gazing out at streets, at strangers whose lives she did not know. Her words remained unsaid unless requested. Her studies or worship hadn't been interrupted by a pair of pretty eyes in church or passing in the halls. She never watched raindrops streak down a car window or tuned out a teacher’s voice to squint at the spider spinning its silver web in the corner of the classroom. 

As such, you can imagine how surprised she was with herself when her eyes wandered away from her busy hands to the woman at the front of the bookstore, leaning over the counter, peering at a hefty brown book. The long, dark fingers of her right-hand flitted mindlessly through the pages, her left-hand inattentively tapping along to the distant Tchaikovsky playing throughout the store. From Eleanor's perspective, she donned mostly dark clothing. Black hair draped itself gracefully over her shoulders. 

Eleanor's head tilted. The woman’s arm reached up to tuck one of the thick, dark strands behind her ear. Her eyes flicked upwards. Eleanor's heart skipped. Warm honey-green meeting soft brown. The two gazed for a moment, till Eleanor realized her attentiveness and snapped her eyes away as swiftly as she could manage.

She fiddled with the half-made crocheted scarf resting on the table. Golden wool pooled into her lap. Scolding herself, she fluidly twined strand between strand with trembling fingers. Her bare nails snagged the wool, clumsy fingers tripping over each stitch, and she found her focus lacking.

 _Stop it, Eleanor._ _Just breathe and do as you’re supposed to._ She paused. A hand crept up to finger the cross hanging from her neck. Her eyes shut for a moment while she inhaled.

She traced the tiny carvings within the wood of the cross. The pads of her fingers repeatedly brushed over the engravings. 

"Forgive me," she murmured, softly enough only for her ears. She exhaled, letting the cross hang loosely in her hand before dropping it to her chest.

But her breath caught when she opened her eyes, peeking towards the front, and spotting the woman’s burning gaze.

 _Just calm down._ Eleanor refocused herself back on her project. Her parents would not be thrilled if she was wasting time in the _‘Knitting and Crocheting for The Modern Homemaker’_ class they paid for her to be enrolled in.

Eleanor peered around the room at the other young women. Their eyes remained nearly glued to their own work, exchanging quiet words. Sighing, she kept her gaze down and mind still. Crocheting wasn’t difficult for her. She’d been taught from a young age by many women within her family. It was a skill that came with pride and honor, along with many of the other things her mother had passed down to her. However, her parents still thought it was mandatory that she attend a weekly class on Wednesdays within the city. _To better your skills_ , they’d say. Eleanor didn’t mind much, but she’d much prefer learning more from her mother, rather than being abandoned alone in the middle of an unfamiliar city with a group of other strangers. She had never spent much time within the city, or any crowded place, really. Her anxiety regularly spiked and ran rampant whenever she attended a class such as that.

The class finished long before Eleanor could complete her thick flaxen scarf. She stuffed it into the woven bag she brought with her, alongside a book and a set of needles. She stood steadily and gracefully, pushing her pale hair back and flattening her bubblegum sundress down. Eleanor headed for the door, not before pushing the wooden chair in first. She paused before her hand rested upon the metal handle of the wooden door. Her head twitched to the side and her gaze cautiously flicked behind her. Honey-green stared back.

* * *

The warm, bony hand of her mother curled around her own soft palm. Eleanor jolted out of her absentminded thoughts, head snapping up when her father cleared his throat. Her eyes met his disappointed gaze.

"Sorry, pardon?" She winced out.

" _I said_ , would you like to say grace for us?" He seemed to suppress the urge to wipe his hand down his face. 

"Oh, uh-" Eleanor gaped for a moment.

"I can do it, dad," her sister announced, cheerily. Eleanor threw a thankful glance to her sister, who smirked good-naturedly in return.

"Thank you, Lizzy."

Eleanor nearly zoned out again as her sister began to pray with her family, but she made it a point to focus on the thanks. Eleanor's sister, Elizabeth, was three years older than her, at 24 years of age. She recently got engaged to a good Catholic boy down the road, who the Marner sisters knew all their lives. Elizabeth was wonderful at cooking, cleaning, and everything else that completed a good homemaker. Her fiancé was tall, young, and the nephew of their local parish pastor. Their parents had never been more proud. Eleanor suspected they'd reach the pinnacle of their pride once 'Liz blessed them with a grandchild. 

She unclamped her hand from her mother's when her sister's voice rang out an ' _Amen_ '. 

"Eleanor, how was your class this morning?" Her mother's voice pierced her thoughts. Eleanor fiddled with the pink tablecloth. She became unpleasantly alert of her pale cheeks staining a faint rose. Her sister looked at her knowingly.

"It was fine," she blurted out before her sudden flushing could be questioned. 

"That's good, dear."

The table silenced for a moment. Eleanor's thoughts mindlessly wandered back to the library, as her family casually fell back into conversation.

By the late evening, Eleanor had nearly managed to forget about her affliction, but as her head laid to rest against the soft peach pillow of her bed, the penetrating hazel gaze infiltrated her tired mind again. Her eyes slide shut for a final time, thoughts soft, pink with tenderness, and incoherent, but one thing is clear. She thinks herself to sleep of the girl in the library, entirely unaware that the subject of her thoughts dreams of her as well.


	2. sunday, hell to pay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title is from wrabel (the village)

Charlotte Marner tugged her youngest daughter's hair into a tight braid. Slender, pale fingers slipped around blonde locks of hair till she tied the very end into a bow. Elizabeth lingered behind them, having already done her own hair. Charlotte placed a gilded ruby cross around Eleanor's slim neck, an ornate accessory which she wore every Sunday to mass. The Marners had gone to church every single Sunday for as long as Eleanor could remember. According to her sister's memory, the last time they'd missed it was when Eleanor was born.

"Are you excited to see Henry?" Eleanor's mother queried. 

"I guess," she replied. Her mother gave her an odd look. She shrugged in response. Eleanor did her best to seem enthusiastic, but it was difficult when the subject was a person one cared very little for. Henry Patterson was a boy a few years older than her. He'd been courting her in hopes of a serious relationship for months. He wasn't necessarily awful. He was just... boring. Uninteresting. Monotonous. 

Eleanor didn't ask, but she was close to certain his family had been paid by hers.

She stood, looping her arm with her mother's and sister's. Their dresses each matched in color and shape. Their father's car idled outside, awaiting the three women. He stepped out to assist his wife in getting into the car. Elizabeth and Eleanor slipped into the back. The local church was only about five minutes away. Almost everyone she'd ever known attended. Classmates, teachers, babysitters.

She admired the building as the car rumbled on the gravelly path up to it. It was tall, white, and pristine. A long steeple topped with a spire stretched high into the sky. It was surprisingly beautiful and well-kept for such a rural building. Red roses and lilies were neatly scattered across all across the property, well kept and exceptionally colorful. A mournful graveyard sat behind the church, hidden from a passing eye, but Eleanor had attended this church her whole life. Cars lined the street up to it, squishing in close to one another. People streamed in from the sidewalk. Eleanor could name nearly every person who crossed the threshold into the church.

As the Marner family walked to the doors together, the pastor greeted them. The family had become exceptionally close with him lately, considering Elizabeth was marrying his nephew. Once inside, their mother and father went to mingle. Eleanor found her place among the pews and sat quietly. Elizabeth grinned brightly as her fiancé greeted her. She parted from her family and went to sit with him for the ceremony.

Eleanor stuck her head up and made a cautious glance of the members within the church, surveying the faces. She sighed contentedly. No sign of Henry. She was safe, for now. That was until a big hand clamped around her arm. She had to stop herself from yelping.

_Damn it._

"Henry!" She forced a grin on her face, cringing as he wrapped one of his big arms around her slender shoulders. He grinned back down at her.

"You don't mind if I sit with you for the mass, huh? My parents couldn't make it today." 

Before Eleanor could reply, her mother interjected. "Of _course,_ my dear. You're always welcome to sit with us," Charlotte exclaimed, sliding into the pew next to her daughter. Eleanor's father joined her quietly. 

Eleanor pushed down a sigh as everyone scrambled to their seats in preparation. As soon as it was dead silent, their pastor began, his warm welcomes washing over the crowd of worshippers. He was cheery as always. His preaching continued with a prayer. The members of the church closed their eyes as he requested, allowing the words to soak into their minds. Eleanor found a moment to relax. She tried to reconnect with her usual self. Her eyes opened as he ended the prayer with a resounding ' _Amen.'_

"I'd like to take a moment for us all to reflect on the past week." He continued. "What did you do right? What did you do wrong?" Eleanor tried to stop the thoughts and feelings from entering her mind but knew it was inevitable. She had no control over something like this. 

"Would the Lord have approved of your actions? Of your thoughts and words?" She squeezed her eyes shut once again, this time it was almost involuntary. 

"Repent," he crowed. "Our God will still love and accept you if you ask for forgiveness. His love will grow when you change and fix your actions."   
  


_Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me._ She chanted in her head. 

_How I’d like to see her face again,_ her heart whispered back.

She wanted to scream. To clutch at her face and beg for the beguiling image to go away. But it was like an addiction. Eleanor yearned to think of her, to look at her. To, maybe, touch her. That wasn’t the way of things, though. Not the natural state of how she was designed. She felt diseased. Broken. Plagued. 

And yet, she knew she couldn’t tell anyone. 

So instead, she fiddled with her braided golden hair. She followed each and every word that left the pastors mouth with meticulous attention. Surely, her devotion to God and the church would cure her. All she had to do was put her trust in God. Eleanor opened her eyes and made it a point to stare loyally up at the roof of the church, plastering her most convincing smile onto her bare face.

Her mother seemed to noticed Eleanor’s unusual excitement at the preaching, grabbing her daughter’s bony hand and grinning at her. 

Even as the pastor moved on to other subjects, quoting the bible and telling familiar stories, Eleanor’s mind was wracked with acidic guilt. And though she despised herself for it, her heart twinkled with quiet, tender, affectionate adrenaline. 

At the forefront of her mind, she told herself that this would go away. 

She would just have to wait this out. 


	3. the green in your eyes makes me feel warm inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from bea kristi (coffee)

Eleanor woke at 6:00 AM every day. When she woke, warm sunlight would be shakily rising through the window. She looked forward to the morning light, it flushed her pale room a rich golden color. She, her mother, and her sister took turns cooking breakfast and preparing the kitchen for the family. Her father never cooked and preferred to not rise from bed until he had to. He'd enter the kitchen to a perfectly set table, with an abundance of coffee, while his family sat and waited for him. They never prayed without him. 

Usually, after breakfast, she'd follow her father outside. The Marners used to own ten chickens; now it was five. Every day without fail her father cursed the foxes that had killed off half of their chicken population. Eleanor would check the roost for any eggs, and hand them out to her father. When they had ten, they'd sell half of their stock, and keep the rest. She'd head back inside with her father and they'd store the eggs for the next morning.

She and her mother would then walk to the local market nearby, and pick up whatever necessities were needed, lugging them back home in old oat bags.

Today was a little bit different. It was a Wednesday. Her class was at 11:00 AM. 

Instead of collecting eggs, she would shower, dress, and wave good morning to her neighbors before going on her way to the bus station. When she first began the classes, Eleanor's parents protested traveling by bus. Their concern about their young daughter traveling alone into the city greatly overshadowed the fact that she was an adult, and preferred the time alone. 

This morning, though, her father insisted on driving her there. 

A few minutes after the drive began, her father threw glances between her and the road. The silence was a little bit stiff, tense. Eleanor would much rather be on the bus at that moment, squished into a seat with her nose in her book.

Her father broke the silence.

"I wanted to speak with you about something." She twisted her head to glance at him. This didn't seem good. He continued. "How would you like it if I planned something, for you and Henry?"

"Um-"

"I was thinking, you don't seem very excited by him during church. I can't for the life of me figure out why. He's good, you know. Smart, faithful, handsome. Most importantly he goes to _our_ church. You should feel lucky he's even interested in you, and not another girl. If you go out with him soon, you'll like him more. Get a chance to talk, without your mother hovering over." He paused, and she wondered what he was waiting for before he shot her an expectant glance.

"Oh. I guess." Her father quirked a brow at her. 

"How about on Saturday? I called his father up to ask when he'd be available. You can choose where if you like. You're keen on the city, aren't you?" He gave his daughter a bit of a knowing look.

"I suppose," she replied.

"Well, decide where you'd like to go. I'll pay for it and everything." Eleanor nodded, the car falling back into that uneasy silence.

They remained like that for the rest of the ride, until the car pulled up to the grand library within the city. 

Eleanor thanked her father, before stepping out of the car. She waved him goodbye as he pulled away. 

A gust of frigid air hit her as she walked through the imposing front doors of the library. She rubbed at her bare arms, shuddering lightly. 

Checking her watch, she found she was a few minutes early. There were a few other ladies there, young and old, and the instructor was setting up her station. Eleanor remained where she was, her bag hanging from the crook of her elbow, rubbing lightly at her cold skin. She gazed around the library, before reaching for a chair. 

She pulled a chair out, but before she could sit, there was a tap on her shoulder.

Eleanor jumped and whipped around. Her dark eyes locked with hazel ones before her gaze flicked downwards. Eleanor's heart pounded.

"Hello," she managed to stutter out. It was hard to look the woman in the eyes. They seemed to sear right into her mind. 

"Sorry, did I scare you?" Eleanor opened her mouth to reassure her, but the woman continued. " "You left your sweater here last time. You might want it back, it's kinda chilly in here." 

Eleanor remained frozen, her eyes flicking around. The other woman seemed to notice her trepidation, and flashed her a bright, crooked smile, holding up the sweater in her hand. Eleanor jolted out of her inertia, feeling dumb for freezing up. She scolded herself silently.

"Oh, um- yes. Sorry, thank you," she stammered. Her eyes continued to dance around the woman's face, her eyes catching on each feature that stood out. Her nose was pierced, a perfect round golden circle rested right before her full lip. An array of rings and jewelry hang from her ears, and one of her dark eyebrows had multiple lines shaved into the end. 

Eleanor marveled at how well the golden metal complimented her caramel skin. 

"You've been coming for a while, yeah? Eleanor, right? It's written on the tag." Eleanor nodded, glancing down at the garment. "I've been working here for a while, sorta part-time 'cause of university, and all that. Oh, I'm Dahlia, by the way, guess I should've started with that, huh?" She chuckled.

Eleanor felt paralyzed. It was baffling how confident she was. She couldn't comprehend why this stranger was talking to _her_.   
  
"Anyways, uh, I've gotta get back to work, I think. And, it looks like your class is starting." Eleanor glanced back at the instructor. "Here, let me help with your sweater." Dahlia lifted the sweater up for her.  
  
Eleanor physically jerked herself out of daze to slip her arms through the sweater, murmuring a quiet thank you.  
  
"You're welcome. I'll see you around, yeah?" Dahlia asked, grinning at her with a brilliant smile once more. Eleanor nodded and watched stiffly as Dahlia strolled into some dark backroom behind the counter. 

Even as she sat in her chair and prepared for the lesson, her mind remained on the other woman.

Eleanor could tell her cheeks were bright pink. She knew they would be for the rest of the day.  
  


* * *

Dahlia rubbed at her eyes as she walked into the library's tiny break room. A frustrated groan ripped out of her throat. Her friend, Alana, sat on an old, musty yellow couch at the back of the room.   
  
"What's wrong with you?" Alana asked, smirking. Dahlia flopped down on the couch next to her. Dust poofed up around her. "You did it again, didn't you?" She didn't reply, letting the back of her head rest against the brick wall behind them.  
  
"I am _such_ an idiot," she muttered. She looked down at her hands and picked at her nail polish. Dahlia reached up to rub at her face in shame again. Why did she have to stutter her way through every conversation with a girl? 

"I doubt it was as bad as you think," Alana reassured. Dahlia threw her friend a look full of doubt. 

"She _barely_ said anything back to me." Dahlia fiddled with the golden loop through her ear. Her friend patted her leg, before standing up.

"I'll let you sulk alone. My break's almost over anyway." 

Dahlia stared up at the old break room's cracked ceiling. She sighed. Maybe she didn't do too bad after all?

  
_I guess I'll just have to try again._


	4. something new, something strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title is from dodie clarke (ready now)

The creak of the Marner household's hefty front door echoed deep into the old house. Eleanor stayed sitting at her desk as she heard the soft, light footsteps of her sister. She sat absent-mindedly, scrawling on a piece of paper, 'til there was an almost timid knock on her door. Eleanor glanced towards the door as her Liz pushed the slightly ajar door open enough to slip through.

"Hey," her sister greeted quietly. She looked stiff, almost conflicted. Her eyes seemed reddened around the edges like she hadn't slept. Eleanor paused and placed her pen down. She stood and sat back down, tucking her dress underneath herself. Liz joined her.

"Are you alright?" Eleanor asked, leaning back on her elbows. She shrugged in response.

"Elle..." she paused, gazing out the window. "I- um..." Her brow was knitted strictly.

Eleanor smiled a bit, hoping it'd ease her a bit. "Yeah?"

"Something happened," she paused once more before continuing, "with me and Arthur." Eleanor's face twisted with confusion. At first, she thought her sister was upset about something small, insignificant to anyone else but major to her. Maybe she took the lord's name in vain, or accidentally lied to their mother and was now wracked with guilt about it. Her sister was like that. Elizabeth didn't slip up often, but when she did it nearly killed her.

But this was different. It had to do with Arthur. Her and her fiancé rarely fought, over anything. This was serious.

Eleanor straightened and looked her sister straight in the eye.

"What happened?" She asked, quietly. Her sister focused on her own lap. Her lip seemed to wobble a bit. Eleanor shifted closer and put a hand on her sister's slim shoulder. She looked like she wanted to leave and almost moved to stand.

"I'm not sure if I should say..." she wrung her hands and refused to let Eleanor catch her eye.

"You don't have to. We can just hang out for a bit?" Liz perked up a bit at her sister's suggestion. She nodded her head and rubbed at her eyes.

"Yeah, okay." The silence between almost immediately got awkward, as neither could figure out what to talk about. The two women loved each other, of course. They were sisters. They'd grown up together, and their age gap wasn't too big or too small. But they were different in their own ways. And Eleanor often found herself wishing she were more like Elizabeth. Her sister was almost famous in their small community for being so altruistic. Her naturally kind and outgoing demeanor drew in people quickly, and she had a particularly strong relationship with God and religion. One that everyone was envious of, _especially_ Eleanor. 

Like the flick of a light switch, Liz's face lit up and she turned her head towards Eleanor. Her infectious grin stretched across her face slowly, as she caught Eleanor's eye. 

Mild unease grew in Eleanor's stomach. "What?" She almost snapped. 

"You have a crush, don't you?" She said, giddily. When Eleanor's face twisted into shocked confusion, she said, "I know because you've been acting like I was when I met Arthur." 

Eleanor opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying to find the words to Liz's accusation. She could already feel her face heating up. Before she managed to form a somewhat understandable sentence, her sister started again.

"Who is it? I'm guessing _not_ Henry right, as bad as mom wants you to like him." She stared her sister down as she waited for a response. 

"Um- just someone I met at... one of my classes," she stuttered out. Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

" _Finally_!" Her sister exclaimed, exhilarated at the confirmation that her sister had a crush. "I was starting to think you were, well, gay or something," she laughed. Eleanor had to stop herself from wincing and forced out a huff of laughter. Tried to keep her face as neutral as she could, despite feeling like someone had just reached down her throat and grabbed her by the heart.

 _Don't tell her. She can't know. She'd be disgusted, then she'd tell everyone. They'd be disgusted. They'd be right to be disgusted._ It felt like she was screaming inside her own head.

"Is he cute? Well, he would be, wouldn't he, if you like him. He's not in the class with you, is he? That'd be kinda weird. A _man_ in a woman's class," her sister giggled. 

Eleanor felt frozen again like she had at the library when Dahlia first caught her eye. _Dahlia,_ her heart whispered to her. Perfect images of that white smile and long dark hair flashed through her mind. Dahlia absolutely mesmerized her. She was _nothing_ like anyone Eleanor would ever meet around her neighborhood. 

"No- uh, he just works at the library. And, yeah- um, he's cute, I suppose," she managed to say. She _definitely_ felt her face flush admitting she found someone cute.

"What's he look like, Ellie?" Liz almost cooed, excitement for her sister growing as she learned more about this mysterious city boy. 

Eleanor immediately thought of Dahlia's caramel skin, the way her golden jewelry glittered and shone against that rich, warm color. She thought of her peculiar style; the dark clothes, the graphic t-shirt, riddled with images and symbols that Eleanor hadn't seen before.

"Uh- he's tall? And his hair is dark. Dark skin, too," she added quietly. Liz's face shifted at that, the silence growing awkward for a moment.

" _Oh_... Oh, dear," she murmured. It wasn't that Liz had an issue with that, rather their father did. The two of them sat there for a moment, worrying for different reasons. They both knew that if their father found out, he'd be quite upset. The idea that he'd gone out of his way to find a nice, _white_ , Christian boy for his daughter, only for her to pine for someone... like _that_. Not to mention, Dahlia was obviously not Christian. Or at least not as Christian as their father expected.

Although Eleanor was more concerned about the whole _I'm attracted to another woman_ part of the equation.

Her sister interrupted the silence, clearing her throat. She stood, flattening out her skirt. "I'm going to go start preparing dinner, I think before mom and dad get home." Eleanor nodded, remaining silent. 

After her sister closed the door behind her, Eleanor flopped down onto her bed. She spent a few minutes pondering the situation, before deciding she could fix this. She _could_ fix this, right? This... _affliction?_

 _Attraction,_ her mind whispered once more.

She sat up and reached for the white leather bible sitting on her bedside table.


End file.
